Rosalyn Redwyne
Rosalyn Redwyne is the Queen of the Reach and wife to King Gwayne Gardener. Biography Thinking of The Arbor fills many a mind with images of rolling landscapes, deciduous trees, lush groves and rich vineyards. For Rosalyn these images come painted in the verdant hues of youth. When she closes her eyes home springs forth again. Sometimes the grapevines around Vinetown wound so thickly up the supporting posts and across the wooden trellis that they made a living roof. As a girl, Rose used to play in the fields with her brothers and her friends. The maze of vines was perfect for monsters-and-maidens. The immature grapes hung down, each one a perfect miniature globe of green, providing cover for any enterprising child that didn’t want to be found. Hidden away, she used to watch from the lush green, crouched low to the earth, gripping thick, harsh vines that pricked and splintered her fingers. Dark eyes watched all around, as big as the ripe fruit that hung beside her, tracking every step of the boy’s boots, every click of their wooden swords. It was here she felt closest to her roots, to her precious home isle and to her mother long gone. -- The middle child born to Bethany Oakheart and Mathis Redwyne, Roselyn was her mother’s daughter. A cheerful girl, teased no end by her brothers, but giving Gyles and Artos as good as she got, Rose was a ray of sunlight in the household. An innate kindness and a taste for adventure endeared her to many. Her incessant chatter to any and all who would listen only made them more fond. All this ensured she made a score of friends and tore up many a costly dress. The girl loved to ride horses. Not the small horses they let the girls sit, but big ones, like her brothers’. When her parents fussed, she was wily enough to settle their concerns and to let her try. When she had more trouble than brothers climbing on the horse’s back, solemn septa Rhea who trailed her charge near everywhere and who considered herself certainly not a filthy stable hand, was soon talked into lifting her onto the animal. Together with her uncle Garlan, she and Artos oftentimes sailed Newfound Strenght Rose was fond of the sea and the waves, but it was her youngest brother who truly had salt waters running through his veins. Rose loved to hawk, loved to swim in the sea, to scrap with the boys, to go out to market to rifle the stalls and haggle with the sellers. More than a few times a week she’d make a trip to the kitchens and gossip with the cooks and scullery girls. When she got older and duty more and more forbade unladylike pastimes, there was no complaint. Despite showing no great aptitude, Rose took to embroidering, singing, praying and dancing with the same cheer she employed for everything. Laughter followed the girl wherever she went and in whatever she put her hand to. -- Septa Rhea, born in Oldtown and schooled under Genna herself, was given charge of the Redwyne’s only daughter. The septa’s tasks were to teach her to read and write, school her in the proper etiquette and instill in her which manners turned a girl into a lady of grace and which into a coarse trollop. Rhea was ever a strange woman, one of the few people Rose did not take a liking to. There was respect, but never fondness. The old septa had a scowl that seemed nailed on and was topped by thatch of thin, greying hair. The hair had been hacked in random sawing motions and was a sight to see. The septa was a person with no patience and less eyesight and insisted on cutting her own hair. Its regular wash and the time it took to comb it out was too much trouble. As a result the old woman sported a greasy, uneven mop of head fur, short here, long there, that looked like someone had taken an axe to it. Rhea explained that such affairs of daily life did not concern her as they detracted from service to the Gods. Over the past decade her skin had become crusty, falling off in flakes the size of almond slices. Her mouth had puckered from lack of smiling and shrunk to the size of a jelly bean. Her appearance aside, she was, however, humble and respectful, devout and intelligent, and a good example to her flock and to young girls. Her temperament was even and her voice was the kind that one could get lost in. And that was enough for Rose’s parents. -- True to her reputation, under the septa’s guidance Rose grew into an elegant lady, doing the right things and saying the right words. She learned of history and of the duties of a wife to her husband, what a lord owed his King, the people their lord and a lord his people. At the same time, she planted in the girl the seed of true faith. The seed that told that the faithful are stronger, better even, than the unbelievers and false believers. That nothing is greater than a calling from above, to feed the hungry, treat the sick, to show to all the Gods’ kind grace. Those who are pure of heart and who put their faith into action grow large in the eyes of the Seven. They become worthy. Their shoulders grow stronger so the God’s can place ever greater burdens on them. The good fire was there in her, so the septa claimed. The fire that cleansed the wicked and chased away the dark. Acts of kindness and strength would make it burn brighter. Young Rose didn’t fully get what the septa meant but accepted it all with a child’s eagerness. In the years after, the septs around The Arbor saw plenty of the young girl, praying most ardently. At two-and-ten, she convinced her father to double the noonday alms-givings and organized the Redwyne banners to follow suit. During winter, some of the lords started handing out free bread to the poor, to curry favor with Lord Redwyne. Her accomplishments were small and as soon as she left for Highgarden died down, but they were the first stones building a pure soul. Lord Redwyne was a man of respect at court. Years before she came off age, he set forth to leverage his pretty daughter’s charm, her last name and the promise of a sizeable dowry into a promise. Garth XIV’s heir for his daughter. After the arrangements were made, a feast was thrown in celebration. Nobody was more pleased than Lady Bethany who had long hoped for such a match. When the couple-to-be laid eyes on each other for the first time, … well, it was shame really. And who could have foreseen it? Rose was a fetching young lady, darling to most. But even so, when a young Rosalyn and a younger Gwayne met for the first time, they did not take a liking to one another. Perhaps it was her playful manner that clashed with his more-serious mood. Or perhaps her tendency to giggle and talk your ear off did not sit well with the more taciturn Prince. Whatever it was, lightning did not pass between them at the high table at Highgarden, love at first sight it was not and the two did not speak much. Nobody minded though, not in the least their parents. The two youths would be King and Queen. Theirs would be a life of duty. Love would be a comfort, but not a condition. -- But alas. The world had a lesson in store for Rose. Because at eight-and-ten a young woman who has never tasted anything of love is like a leaf in the wind and easy prey to its stormy ways. Goran had been a stable lad, a young man who got on well with Artos. He and his siblings were poor and his struggling old mother needed all the help she could get. They had not forgotten the Lady’s kindness when they heard that she supported free bread given out to the hungry. Five years older than her, Goran was tall, tanned and charming, handsome like a knight in the tales and talking like one too. Unlike Prince Gwayne, he listened when she rattled on about everything and nothing, laughed at her japes and returned a bawdy barrage of his own. When he said he fully understood her discomfort at the prospect of wedding one such as Prince Gwayne, good sense fell out of her head and she melted. When his lips brushed hers and every one of her perimeter alerts went off, passion grew and she swooned. When he told her nobody need ever know and that it would be one-time only, one brush with true passion before settling for duty, she laid with him behind the haystacks in the small barn next to the eastern gate where not many came, save stable lad Goran. Straw tickling her back, Goran claimed her maidenhead and it was the most deliciously confusing ten minutes of her young life. -- True to his word, Rose never saw much anymore of Goran and it was a relief. It had been a mistake, a moment of weakness, of stupidity. Her duty was to wed the future King and no dalliance should come before her duty, and with a commoner no less. He had soiled her. That’s what it was. Granted, she had said yes, but he was the elder, the one with experience, the man, he should have known better than to get involved with a highborn maid and should never have proposed such a wicked thing. In a way, he had even forced himself on her. Rose didn’t tell a soul. When a few weeks later she was late, worry gnawed. When another week later, her moon-blood still wasn’t upon her and her stomach was unsettled particularly in the mornings, panic struck. And like most children confronted with a situation they cannot deal with, she turned to her mother. Lady Bethany was a gentle and understanding mother, but she did not take the news as well as her daughter might have hoped. Her lady mother called her a naïve harlot and a spoiled ingrate. A shrieking banshee, she railed and wailed at Rose. What was she thinking? What kind of fool had they raised, laying with horse boys when they could have a King. The betrothal to Prince Gwayne was fact. There was no going back, not without losing tremendous face. What’s more the next Queen of the Reach would be a Redwyne, Bethany would die before letting that slip. At the urging of her mother, Rose agreed to drown her unborn child in moon tea. Mathis never knew, but every morning and every evening, in her parent’s room, in secret, Rose swallowed two mouthfuls of bitter moon tea. Rose hoped and hoped and her mother with her that the entire fool situation would soon come to an end. -- But nothing happened, except for the morning sickness that came on ever stronger. The moon tea had surely come too late. Before long one of the servants was bound to notice and if they didn’t, in a month or two, Rose would start showing. The story would be out then, and like as not, the betrothal likewise. Bethany didn’t know what to do and in desperation mother and daughter turned to the old septa, wise and worldly Rhea who always had an answer to everything. And an answer she had this time as well. The shriveled old thing proceeded to tell tales of Lewd Lysanna of Lys and the Knight of Seven Sins, tales of mortals who were driven to sin by the Gods, to learn its shape, and then forsake them forever. The power of prayer would prevail and so the septa set to it. Unbeknownst to her mother, the septa also made Rose promise to come by her chambers ever day where she would feed her another elixir, bitter just like moon tea, but this one was white-colored and smelled of spoiled meat. Rhea told it was moon tea mixed with herbs. It was a poison that in small doses wasn’t fatal to an adult, but would scour her womb clean. After ten days of that, pregnancy sickness mixed with the foul potion, Rose was bed-ridden from cramp worse than any moon-blood. -- For days life and death warred within her until finally a victor emerged. One day late in the evening in front of the hearth, Rose doubled over in pain. Unable to stand she was, screaming her lungs out. Immediately father sent for maester Taleman. Mother called septa Rhea. A scene ensued. Bethany forbade Taleman entry to the chamber where Rose lay crying, claiming it was woman’s business. After a brief, but heated fight, Mathis pushed his wife aside and Taleman into the room. There the septa and the maester worked together delivering Rose’s child. If a child it could be called. The tiny thing had something of a baby’s shape, only it was not fully grown. The torso was ash grey, with two arms with rudimentary hands, but no fingers. Thin, half-formed legs twisted at an angle and narrow, toeless feet. It’s bulbous head was hairless and with a dent in the middle. The eyes were red-rimmed and closed. It was a girl, or would have been a girl. But instead it was dead. Her mother couldn’t stop wailing at the sight. On the verge of hysterics, she said her daughter wasn’t to see the monster. She snatched the thing away and handed to Rhea, to get rid of it. Rose was in pain. Every inch of her body hurt. Every inch of her heart ached at the loss of her child. But her mind … her mind silently, shamefully rejoiced, as a major obstacle was behind her and she was ready to wed the Gardener Prince. -- The next day, after a long night and the first shock had settled, Mathis and Bethany vowed to never again speak of what had happened this night. The thing had not been a baby, therefore Rose had not been pregnant. Simple as that. A lusty stable lad had assaulted their daughter, but no child came off it. Rose was a foolish girl, taken by surprised and confused by panic. Who is to say they even laid together? Perhaps she had dreamt up the whole thing, perhaps he had lied to her. Nobody, especially the Gardeners, was to ever find out. Maester Taleman and septa Rhea were sworn to secrecy. The next day, Goran disappeared and was never seen again. His mother was hit hard with grief. But she wouldn’t grieve very long as one day three, drunk bandits broke into their home. They killed who they found, took what they wanted and burned the hovel after. A couple of months later, Taleman fell down a spiral staircase and broke his neck. It was more than a little suspicious. Mathis blamed that shrew of his wife, that praying mantis. Bethany called him a fool. More fighting. Lord Redwyne wanted the skeletal septa dead, buried and forgotten. His wife forbade it. After rearing her from a child and saving her life, how could they. The septa had done nothing they hadn’t asked of her. Mathis relented, barely. But Rhea was stripped of her position at the sept where Lord Redwyne prayed. Maester Arvyn took the position vacated by Taleman. -- And Rose. What about her? Not much. It had all been too much to bear and her mind had balled up the entire incident and hidden it under the carpet. It was a dark, closed part of her life, never to be thought of again. The only thing that did not fit under that carpet was the image of the stillborn little human, twisted by the septa’s poison and killed by a mother’s folly. In her mind Rose named her baby Leyla, a name for just the two of them, and would never forget her. It was her secret sin, the one to warn her, to keep her straight, to remind and to haunt. -- A few months later, the wedding came to pass and if the betrothal celebration had been a grand affair, it was nothing compared to a royal wedding. First impressions proved meaningless. The match was a better one than Rosalyn would have hoped for. Her own youthful naiveté tempered by her experiences, Gwayne and Rosalyn grew fond of one another and even loving. Her husband was a great man and later a great King. He had strength and competence, not one to suffer fools, but neither needlessly cruel. He was brave in the inside, willing to see his mistakes and work them away. He was brave on the outside, leading from the front. He commanded a room by just stepping to it. He was a driven man, not to be dissuaded and not given to fear. When a battle went wrong and everyone lost their head, he kept his on straight. It was as if he alone was somewhere calm while the rest could only attempt to peer through the fog. Everyone had to see him as strong, in control. But not her. Everybody needs someone to be a regular man with, to tell their worries to, to tell them they did not always felt up to their weighty duty, or good enough to shoulder the fate of the Reach. I can tell you he was always good enough for Rosalyn, as a man, as a King. He never needed to ask for her love, it was his. He never needed to seek her aid, she would give it unasked. One who leads needs solace. One with a brave heart needs a kind of champion of his own, a woman to keep faith when the swords are at the door. It takes a Queen to stand by a King. -- As a Princess, and with King Garth’s blessing, she continued to do the work of the Mother. Highgarden too was soon more generous with alms. After a particular grisly murder, Rosalyn argued for the guards to keep order more tightly at the white castle’ various brothels. As a result incidents were down and the girls were more than thankful to the guards. Several more bastards littered the streets of the castle. An old inn was spruced up and arranged as a caretaker home for children who had lost their parents to war or sickness. Princess Rosalyn was well-loved among the smallfolk for her generosity. But truth be told, the smallfolk’s love could go hang. It was all for the Mother’s sake, and for her own sake, and appearance’s sake, and stability’s sake, but never for the folk themselves. They were charity. A charity that she’d go considerable lengths for, but never more than charity. The instruction of a hard septa and then Goran, who had grandly claimed that the bread she’d convinced her Lord father to offer, fed his family, tricked her in such a low manner, her reservoir of compassion had dried up somewhat. The smallfolk were the unwashed masses, procuring food, labour and their lives for the realm. They were foolish, slaves to impulse. They were deceptive, hardship taught them as much and they didn’t know better than bite the hand that fed them. Rose didn’t truly blame them for it. They lied and stole to survive, they couldn’t help it. The highborn needed them as they needed the grain in the fields, and they definitely needed their betters, but there was a barrier between high and low, one that should not be crossed. The Mother aided the smallfolk and Rose aided the Mother, but never would she aide the smallfolk, or trust their ilk ever again. -- Nine months after the bedding ceremony, Garland was born. The sept at Highgarden hosted an elaborate ceremony to thank the Mother for granting the Gardener’s another scion. Privately, Rose thanked the Mother that Rhea’s potion had not rendered her barren. Two more sons soon followed, Mern and Garth. Motherhood became Rosalyn and her children were exactly what she needed in her life. The new mother loved them with every fiber of her being. Three strong boys they were, like their father, and kind and cunning like their mother. But it didn’t stop at three. The fourth child was something special. The fourth was a girl and born before her time was up. A small thing she was, only as big as a kitten and sickly. Rose remembered the birth as it happened yesterday. When Master Mace said it’s a girl and a newborn’s wail pierced the air, the memory of grey and deformed Leyla sprang forth. It was a miracle. The Mother’s miracle. When she insisted to her husband to name their darling daughter Leyla he did not object. It all fit perfectly. This was reward. Leyla come again, only whole this time, and lovely and perfect. It was recognition from the All-Mother that Rosalyn’s work was noted and appreciated and to be continued. It was then that Rosalyn started talking to engineers and stonemason about a sept. A new sept, the replace the old at Highgarden, larger and greater, to better reflect the glory of the Mother. It was also then that Rosalyn made a trip home to The Arbor, to see her family. When Rosalyn left again for Highgarden, Rhea lay dead in the tiny chamber Lord Redwyne allowed her. A cup lay next to her, with a few leftover drops inside, white as milk and smelling like rotten meat. -- While Rosalyn loved all her children, Leyla was special. Born sickly, she needed more attention than the boys and as the Mother’s grace made flesh, Rose couldn’t help but dote on her. Inseparable they were. While septas, maesters and masters-at-arms taught the boys, Rosalyn schooled the girl. Letters and sums. History and manner. Embroidery, dance and everything else. She decorated the girl in the most elaborate dresses, took her hawking and hunting and kept away any dog sniffing for a bride. Together with the engineers, Rosalyn and Leyla oversaw the construction of the Sept of the Divine Union, a great, new sept built at Highgarden, in the honor of the Mother and the Father. It was little Leyla who picked the artists to paint the murals. It was she also who said that two great statues, one of Mother and one of the Father, needed to stand on either side of the entrance doors. Rosalyn’s cherished every moment spent with Leyla, never would she lose her girl again. -- War drew ever closer to the Reach. The Ironborn had ravaged the coasts of the Reach. Lord Fletcher died and Gwayne called his banners to stop the infighting, Rosalyn, now Queen, stood by his side. The King tricked young and Dominionist Lannister and trapped him, at Stoney Sept of all places. But he was driven off by the force of the Vale and the High Septon. Her brother-in-law Gareth was murdered by the Storm King and if that wasn’t enough Rosalyn’s brother Gyles was cravenly butchered by Lannister. The Reach had enemies on all sides. But the tide would turn. The Gods were with them, all of them. Timeline 254 AA: Rosalyn is born 270 AA: Rosalyn is betrothed to Prince Gwayne Gardener, heir to the Gardener throne. 272 AA: Rosalyn is assaulted by a stable hand. Rosalyn’s daughter is stillborn. Prince Gwayne Gardener and Rosalyn Redwyne wed at the Highgarden Castle Sept. 273 AA: Garland Gardener is born. 274 AA: Mern Gardener is born. 276 AA: Garth Gardener is born. 280 AA: Leyla Gardener is born. 285 AA: King Cotter’s War. 286 AA: Lord Mathis Redwyne, Rosalyn’s father, dies when his ship is sunk in a storm following a visit to the Shield Isles. Rosalyn’s brother Gyles becomes Lord of the Arbor. 290 AA: King Garth XIV passes away. Gwayne XI Gardener ascends the throne. 291 AA: Gwayne leads a host into the Riverlands. 292 AA: Gyles Redwyne, Rosalyn’s brother, is slain at Stoney Sept by King Tyrion V Lannister. Artos Redwyne becomes Lord of the Arbor 298 AA: The King and Queen travel to Harrenhal, to witness the meeting of Kings. NPCs Order of the Greenhand Ser Lancel Lyberr (b. 279 AA): Entrusted with the safety of the King’s wife and children | Warrior (1H Sword) Ser Manfield Dunn (b. 246 AA): Entrusted with the safety of the King’s wife and children | Warrior (1H Sword) -- Court Ser Hugo Kidwell (b. 252 AA): King’s Justice | Executioner Lady Margaery Cockshaw (b. 280 AA) Lady Amerei Pommingham (b. 269 AA) Lady Lysbeth Lyberr (b. 281 AA) Category:Reachman Category:House Gardener Category:House Redwyne Category:Queen